


A Cup O’Kindness

by phantomreviewer



Series: the preservation of fire [2]
Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Loss of Faith, M/M, Minor Character Death, New Year's Eve, Slice of Life, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomreviewer/pseuds/phantomreviewer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes (ex?) Mormons congregate in places other than Salt Lake City. Because Salt Lake City isn’t an actual place, it’s a metaphor for the Promised Land, and paradise is where you make it yourself, or so they’ve learnt. </p>
<p>  <i>They talked about that Christmas once, curled up on Kevin’s couch watching Christmas films in July. Arnold’s DVD display covered the entirety of one of their apartment walls, none of them in pristine condition. </i></p>
<p>
  <i>“I’m sorry if I took any liberties but it was something I wanted to do.” </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The implications sunk in, heavy and light all at once.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cup O’Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slightlytookish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/gifts).



> This is Jen's birthday present, which I'm posting a little early to be safe rather than sorry! And speaking of sorry, as what is supposed to be a fluffy sequel somehow has ended up with a 'minor character death' tag, I'm sorry! I don't know how it happened but I promise it ends well.
> 
> Set an unspecified amount of time after Let In Light, Banish Shade (it'll make sense). The title comes from the traditional New Year’s Eve song ‘Auld Lang Syne’. It is the season of good will, therefore the actual immigration process, New Year’s customs and life in New York are not represented here. A happy ending is though. 
> 
> Happy birthday Jen! <3

After eighteen months of sharing, what was after all, a relatively small hut for ten growing boys, there hadn’t been any discussion of staying together once they all returned to America. With all the Elders decked up for the final time in their blazers, ties and Church issue badges promises had been made to stay in touch, hugs had been freely given, tears shed and numbers exchanged standing in the dry heat of the airport, waiting to leave Uganda for the final time. Connor had made those promises too, had smiled and hugged and wept, and promised but other than his promise to Chris Thomas he wasn’t sure he meant them. He hadn’t meant the promises as a lie, he wanted to keep them, so badly. But he wasn’t sure if he could truly keep those promises. So much had changed, mostly for the better.

It was a miracle that District 9 would be continuing beyond them. Elder Price and Elder Cunningham were only supposed to fulfil the last three months of their mission, but Connor suspected that they would stay longer. Elder Cunningham wanted to make sure the new elders knew of the importance of the Book of Arnold before he left and he had been spending more time than strictly expected with Sister Nabulungi.

Elder Price, acting as District Leader before the arrival of Elder Coyne, had squeezed his hand when thanking him for having lead District 9 with dignity and honesty, and then had hugged him to thank him for being his friend. Connor had been touched, even more so when Arnold Cunningham wept a little into his shoulder. But Elders were not supposed to contact people outside the church while on their missions, so that parting goodbye should have been the end.

Most of the Elders had scattered to the winds once back on American soil, some to their families and the safety of the true Church, some quietly moving away and continuing what had been started in Uganda and of course Elder Price and Elder Cunningham had stayed. It was suddenly an almost lonely environment to be in.

Connor had unceremoniously ducked away from the Church of the Latter Day Saints. He never officially left the church, but then again, he’d never officially left his family but he let himself loose into the world. Anchored by his past, but not tethered to it. There was only one place to be.

New York was thriving and busy, and on hot days it almost felt the same as Uganda. There was a similar sense of _something_ , a thriving centre where everyone surveyed but did not look too closely. Connor didn’t know that he could miss a place like that until he left it. He started his life up again, and went to college. He moved into shared campus at the heart of New York, he didn’t know how he afforded it, but he did. It was loud, and his neighbour partied at all hours of the night and offered him pot and cigarettes and were always perfectly polite. Connor accepted their company but not their extracurricular supplies. He couldn’t quite get used to the concept of being alone, at least not yet. He hadn’t been alone for over two years and he found himself craving the company of people. He liked to hear them talk. Even in the early hours of the morning. Uganda had never been quiet.

He threw himself into his studies. He worked harder than he could ever remember working, not even the sweat rolling down his spine in the Ugandan sun was as challenging, but he enjoyed it almost as much. Perhaps, in time, he could love his future as much as he clung onto his past. Connor studied, read and wrote. The thought had struck him during rehearsals that once he would have majored in theatre studies, but this was the right decision. The joy he felt dancing had almost _almost_ been enough to convince him to change swap his minor for his major, but in the end he felt a pull towards helping others. That hadn’t changed from Uganda. He had been a leader, and a teacher, and he wanted to continue.

He texted Chris, told him that he was studying Education and other idle pleasantries and nothing heavy about what had happened and changed in Uganda and he lived

And then Kevin came back.

Connor hadn’t met him at the airport, hadn’t known when his mission ended and hadn’t rang the number he still had for emergencies only for the Mission Hut. Connor had sent out letters and treats out to Uganda, had remembered how hard those days had been, especially for the new Elders, but he had tried to keep the two sphere separate. He hadn’t put a return address nor a phone number. It was merely a gift. It would be too easy to loose himself in melancholy where he half in Africa and half under the weak New York sun. So he lived in the moment.

And it had been Kevin Price who had found him.

Kevin Price had always been the one to help Connor find himself.

He had looked him up apparently, and Connor imagined Kevin navigating Twitter and Facebook to try and find his own locked profiles, and when that had failed he’d contacted Chris. Chris had known more than he’d shared, and for that Connor was grateful, but he’d told Kevin ‘New York’.

And so New York was where he and Arnold have moved in together. Their apartment was one of those utilitarian affairs which sprung up with gentrification and more money than sense and they were going to see what life was like. But despite that, Kevin had still wanted to see him. Kept an eye out for him while crossing streets and smiled at strangers hoping that they’d smile back with a familiar smile.

It was good fortune that he’d happened across Connor on a busy street, almost like fate.

Technically Connor was already late, but he offered no objection to Kevin’s offer, and found himself tucked into a busy corner and listening to Kevin Price talk. He had no objection to that either. It was easy to fall back into old habits.

Arnold was planning to do a creative writing course in the coming months apparently.

“He’s good at it, as you remember. His stories are incredible, but me? I don’t know.” Kevin told Connor over coffee. Well, Kevin was drinking coffee, Connor had his hands wrapped around a hot chocolate. He wasn’t sure where he stood with the Church as an organisation, but some of its teachings stuck with you. But in New York it was easier to let others of them go.

“I dedicated myself to that Mission, but now I’m out. I’ve come to terms with not believing in God,” - Connor didn’t wince – “at least not in the way that I’m supposed to. And I understand the flaws of the Church, but I wasn’t clear on what to do next. I’d always known, you see?”

Kevin’s family had apparently accepted his decision to leave the Church, they were unsure and confused, but they loved him regardless. They accepted his decision. It was more than Connor had expected knowing what he did of Kevin’s reputation.

“I want to learn who I am, I want to learn what I believe in, how I can help the world and really mean it.”

Kevin was volunteering at the moment, finding organisations who needed him. Connor thought that the sense of belonging was a factor in Kevin’s current predicament, but he couldn’t deny that he was using his time, his money and his work ethic well. Kevin had always been dedicated.

“There’s a homeless shelter that I work at on weekends, and I help with a call-centre for the displacement of refugees. They are very worthy causes and I’m proud, but, how can I help you Connor?”

“What?” Connor choked on the dregs of his hot chocolate. Kevin had finished his coffee and was staring earnestly at Connor’s flushed face.

“We’re going to be neighbours. Well, sort of. In the same neighbourhood. Our flat is a few blocks over from here, and it would be good to see you. How are you?”

Kevin really wanted to know, and Connor felt that he could actually share the truth. Kevin already knew, it made it easier to say it somehow.

“I’ve realised some things… about myself. I’ve accepted them as well. Slowly.”

Kevin’s returning smile was entirely honest.

“Good.”

It built from there. They went on coffee dates, in the most platonic sense of the word. They watched films together and Kevin lent Connor his favourite books. They were friends, and it wasn’t quite the same has it had been in Uganda. There was no formality, no structure, no limitations and Connor had no responsibility. It was Kevin, not Elder Price. Connor, not Elder McKinley. There were the two worlds, of before and after and almost two different people. But he couldn’t separate Kevin from the memory of Elder Price. They both fussed over Arnold, helped little old ladies across the street and teased Connor while straightening his collar. It was nice. Connor realised, this world that they had created in New York. He was going to be a teacher.

They talked about that Christmas once, curled up on Kevin’s couch watching Christmas films in July. Arnold’s DVD display covered the entirety of one of their apartment walls, none of them in pristine condition.

“I’m getting better, more up to date with pop culture,” Kevin had said when Connor had stood in awe at Arnold’s collection, “I prefer Star Trek through, and Arnold’s okay with that. He hasn’t changed his opinion to suit mine.”

Connor could hear the pride in Kevin’s voice at that. He thought that they had all come so far since the first time they’d met.

It was snowing on the screen when Connor turned towards Kevin, fingers twitching.

“I was so stressed about that Christmas, remember, but then it all worked out and then you…” Connor knew that he was blushing, he blushed far too easily, even now, “I’m sorry if you felt you had to do that.”

Kevin to his credit didn’t falter, he just turned the volume low and turned to face him.

“I didn’t. We were,” Kevin bit off a laugh but it didn’t feel cruel, it sounded sympathetic, “on a budget, and I’m sorry if I took any liberties but it was something I wanted to do.”

The implications sunk in, heavy and light all at once.

“Oh,” that was all that Connor wanted to say, but he owed it to himself, owed it to Kevin to keep going, “Why didn’t you ever mention anything?”

“I didn’t want to pressure you, you didn’t accept that part of yourself then, you were starting to but I didn’t want to force you into a situation you’re uncomfortable with.”

There’s a rainbow pin on Connor’s bag strap. Another reason to pick New York. That and the theatre. There are some stereotypes that he’s starting to understand are okay to fulfil. He is himself, he is an individual and he is gay. The words seem very small in his head. They sound very small when says them to Kevin. Kevin’s smile lights up the room.

And maybe that conversation could have gone somewhere else if Arnold hadn’t sprung in, whistling.

“Hello Connor” – it had taken months before he didn’t immediately call him Elder McKinley before spluttering over the word ‘Connor’ – he’d been at his internship, making tea and coffees and running around like a maniac at a publishing company before starting school again with creative writing – “what are we watching?”

The three of them watched the films and then much later, Kevin offered to walk Connor home.

Life turned into a series of moments lived between the day to day events. Between courses and studies came friendship and laughter. Kevin had helped to organise a charity auction which Connor attended running late from a study session where they giggled more than they researched. He didn’t really have enough money to bid for anything, but he entered the lotto for good luck and when he was introduced to Kevin’s colleagues as ‘Connor’ he received knowing smiles.

When Arnold’s first short story was published and paid for, something short on the internet about a beautiful girl called Nala – “he’s still working on being better had naming things”– they went out for drinks. Just the three of them, and Connor made sure to pay for the first round. If Connor didn’t know better he’d have thought that his Shirley Temple wasn’t as much of a virgin as it claimed to be. It was right somehow, he had Kevin and he had Arnold, but he also had his friends on his course, went to lectures and tutorials and kept regular attendance at his amateur dramatics society.

Then it was autumn and beautiful and when he got up the nerve to kiss Kevin Price in the middle of Central Park his lips tasted like pumpkin spice latte.

Connor’s lips were tingling when they broke apart, and it was Kevin who spoke first. Connor, strangely, felt that he didn’t need to justify his actions to himself.

“I’ve been waiting, I thought you still did, but I wasn’t sure-” Kevin was unusually ineloquent, raising his free hand to his own lips. It was a, striking, image. The sight of Kevin Price lost for words, because of something Connor had done.

“Of course I did, I never stopped, even before I knew I’d started.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic confession, but it didn’t stop it from being true.

And it wasn’t life changing or earth shattering. It felt right, like it was supposed to be. And perhaps it was.

They didn’t move in together, it was too much too soon, but Connor did move out of his halls of residence to rent a small one bedroom cupboard a few subway stops from Kevin and Arnold’s, both for privacy and to escape the seemingly endless parties that students liked to host.

Connor wasn’t sure if Arnold really loved his tiny one-man apartment, or if he just instinctively _knew_ when Kevin and Connor wanted to be alone and so took himself off for a sleepover and Star Wars marathon on Connor’s bluray player. Arnold always insisted that it was more fun to go somewhere new. He was more intuitive than people gave him credit for. Connor always made sure to stock juice boxes in his fridge, for those occasions.

So they didn’t move in together. They had too much to learn first, and they were happy as they were. But they went on dates, and Connor didn’t look over his shoulder once and he learnt what coffee tasted like and they talked, unpacking years’ worth of complications and issues, Kevin and his perfectionism and loss of faith, Connor with acceptance of his sexuality and his relationship with the Church. They moved forward.

It was approaching winter, starting to frost over and Connor, selfishly wanted it to last forever.

He wasn’t going home for the holidays, he’d remained in sparing contact with his parents, occasionally sent money and e-mails that contained more statement than questions. They cared about him, in their own way. He knew that now. He got to start afresh as his own person, a person who he helped into being, not constrained or controlled by the church, by the destructive kindness of his family, by his own fears. He was free to _be_.

But it would be easier at least this time, the first time with Kevin, to do it alone. He was learning that it was okay for the easier option that he didn’t have to dedicate himself to wasted causes and wear himself into nothing trying to find acceptance that wasn’t there.

And then Elder Coyne, the new District Leader, had rung Connor’s personal number from the Ugandan Mission Hut.

He knew that in practice the current District Leader may have cause to contact him. It was not something that he expected however. Perhaps he hadn’t been clear in his colour coding guide.

Leaving had been one of the hardest things to do, to leave a place where he was almost accepted and enter into a new world where he wasn’t sure if he would be accepted at all. Their contact, Mafala Hatimbi had died and his daughter was devastated and alone.

It hadn’t been a surprise: that was the worst part of it, there had been so much suffering in that village, so much death. They had done what they could, had appealed for what medicines that they could and have tended the ill and the dying when they need came. But at the end of the day, they got to leave and the villagers had to stay. They were only fleeting parts of these people’s lives.  Mafala Hatimbi had been a good man, a kind man, a loyal man. Connor’s heart ached.

Kevin held Arnold when he cried.

Connor knew that even before they left Arnold had been talking to authorities about visas and passports and how something needed to be done. Nabulungi had been Arnold’s favourite topic of conversation ever since Connor had known him, even taking into account the new sect of Mormonism that he had singlehandedly managed to start.

He wasn’t in the least surprised that Arnold was on the first flight that he could afford. He thinks this is why Arnold has been working for pittance, he’d been planning. Had been anticipating this and was ready. At least, Connor hoped that Arnold had a plan, the man so often seemed to play it by ear, and whatever he was planning would be delicate. Connor wasn’t surprised that Kevin Price and three return tickets were on the next flight out, after a number of hushed and hurried conversations over the phone that Connor hated to think of the cost of. He felt better that Kevin would be there, even if he would rather he was with him.

Connor’s first Christmas with a boyfriend, with friends who loved him out of choice as opposed to obligation, was spent alone.

But he didn’t mind, not really. He couldn’t have dropped everything to fly out to Africa, he couldn’t afford it and he had assignments due in. He was rooted into a new system, and as much as Uganda would always have a place in his heart there was a part of him that wasn’t prepared to go back there. At least not so soon. He wasn’t sure if he would feel the same as he once had, or if he’d be able to return. So he stayed, and watched New York light up from the inside with the season and imagined Kevin and Arnold an ocean away.

There was a pang of sadness at Kevin’s unopened gift under the tree after the months counted down into days– and the one addressed to him, he couldn’t bring himself to open it alone. But he understood. He listened to music and cooked his small meal for one and ate festive chocolates and went to the local church, it wasn’t LDS, but they sang and were happy and welcomed him in with open arms.

This time, over a month later, on the last day of the year he did meet Kevin at the airport. Kevin and Mr and Mrs Cunningham.

Nabulungi hadn’t brought much with her, hadn’t had much to bring just the clothes off her back, her spare dresses wrapped tight around her texting device and the photographs she kept of her mother and father.

Connor hugged her as though it could alienate her suffering. He hadn’t realised that she was taller than him in Uganda. Her eyes were reddened, and Connor could not think of the words that she deserved to hear. But still, she smiled at him, abet thinly.

“It is good to see you Elder,” she said after Connor dropped his arms from her shoulders and went to pick up her only bag instead.

“We’re not Elders any more Nabulungi, but I hope I can be your friend?” He shrugged as Connor bumped his shoulder gently.

Nabulungi smiled again, even with everything she had gone through she was still radiant.

“You were always that.”

Things are set to change in ways that Connor had never expected or experienced for himself. But they, as a group, decide to let it be, just for now, to let the New Year wash away their past. Instead they had a party.

They played Twister and danced awkwardly together in the small space. Nabulungi laughed, for the first time in months and Arnold smiled with her. Kevin had a single bottle of cider, and even then he only drank half, finding a house full of friends a distraction.

Their feast was limited to what could be purchased last minute on New Year’s Eve; sugary snacks and discount chips. Miniature chocolate bars and microwavable pizzas. It was nothing like _Sekukkulu_ , it was something new. And Nabulungi danced her fingers across with the Christmas lights that Connor had haphazardly strung up across Arnold’s DVD collection.

Arnold had found a pair of wearing New Year’s glasses and was wearing them awkwardly over his own glasses. Something was going to end up broken on the floor by the end of the night, and for Arnold’s sake Connor hoped that it would be the novelty pair.

Kevin had spent most of the evening distracted, distracted by music, by rearrangement of sleeping spaces and by his own thoughts. But he pulled himself back towards Connor and the newlyweds in the moment approaching midnight.

“The person you kiss when it strikes midnight is the person you are going to be with for the rest of that year,” he said, smiling impishly. Connor didn’t know if this was something Kevin believed or if he was saying it for the sheer joy of the presence of love.

Nabalungi turned, suddenly serious as she looked towards Kevin, eyes wide.

“I have already married my Arnold, we will be together forever.” Connor doesn’t doubt it, he had travelled across the world to her because she was suffering. And she had uprooted her life to be with him. If any people were supposed to be together, it was them.

“But for luck,” she said, smile returning to her face, “for luck, we will kiss.”

She leant into Arnold then, and his blush was brighter than the colourful stringlights decking the room. Nabulungi laughed again, and it was worth the embarrassment.

Connor had an arm strung across Kevin’s waist and a non-alcoholic punch in a plastic glass in the other hand.

The countdown is muted in the background, but he can hear the rallying cry of ‘ten… nine…’. Nabulungi presses desperately sincere pecks to Arnold’s face and Connor thinks that Arnold may be speaking in hushed tones, but he cannot catch the words, ‘six…five’. Arnold moves his hands and Connor looks away. They are owed a little privacy.

He turns to his own matters, he leans up, he should start it, and Kevin leans down. The kiss is perfect, dry and warm and Connor cannot think of a better way to start a year, to start a life.

They are pulled apart by Nabalungi’s shocked gasp.

She had pulled apart from Arnold and was peeled to the window, hands pressed against the glass. No one had told her about fireworks.

The sky outside their flat was lit up, shining greens and golds into the crowded flat. Connor raised himself onto his toes, and kissed Kevin again. He could feel Kevin smile and felt his own heart pound in time to the fireworks outside.


End file.
